


KISSmas Kollection

by 1JettaPug



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: Beverages, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Cookies, Cute, Denial of Feelings, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, Hanukkah, Happy, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Holidays, Mistletoe, One Shot Collection, Paul Is So Done, Presents, Prompt Fic, Rock Stars, Sharing, Short & Sweet, Snow, Snowball Fight, Team, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-05 10:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16808761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug
Summary: A KISSmas story Kollection involving all the band members of KISS. Expect Hanukkah, expect Christmas, expect snowballs in the face of at least someone. Heh. Chapters will range from fluff pieces to smutty shorts (and the actual length of each chapter may vary). Happy holidays~!





	1. Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a 12 days of KISSmas story Kollection fic. Each chapter will be based off a holiday prompt list that I have constructed, and nothing will go in any particular order. With that said, here we go!

" _Huh_?" It had been a long day of recording and editing at the studio, and Eric just hadn’t expected any sort of surprise waiting for him in the shared break room. Picking up the orange package waiting for him on his desk, he looked at it disbelievingly.

There was a tiny note on top of the present. Eric picked it up and smiled. Apparently, little Sara-Jean had sent her uncle Eric an early gift for Christmas. Sissy, his sister, just had it shipped to the studio, the writing on the note indicating that she had lost his mailing address. At least she knew where he was spending most of his time these days when he wasn’t touring.

He chuckled, then began to gingerly unwrap it, pulling off the soft white ribbon from the white box. Pulling the top off, his smile grew wider and his eyes became even softer. “ _Aww_ , Sis, Sara-Jean…” he murmured. 

Inside, a cute plush fox toy rested beside a large container of homemade goods that Sissy and Loretta normally helped their mother make for the Christmas season. Oh, they had even made some of their own chocolate, the rough cuts in the sides making it clear that Sissy still hadn’t mastered handling a knife quite yet.

Then, Eric moved to sit down on the couch at the back of the room, beginning to pull out everything in the box to examine it. He picked the plush fox up, marveling at how soft it was and how cute. It even had a note attached to it by a safety pin that read _“Uncle Eric”_ on it with pink crayon. He happily placed the fox beside him, then moved onto the goodies in the box.

Sure, it wasn’t exactly Christmas just yet- less than four weeks away, now- but the note read as a Christmas care package and not a Christmas gift. No ‘do not open until X-mas’ stickers here.

“Hey, Eric do you have a minute-” Gene popped his head around the doorframe of the break room. As if some sort of trigger went off in his mind, he looked up from the white page of lyrics that he was scanning, and an eager smile was quick to cross his face. “ _Eric_ …”

“ _Gene_ …. Gene, no. These are mine-”

“Are those _cookies_?” Gene’s walk was even quicker than his grin, as he walked in and perched himself on an armchair next to the couch.

“They’re the ones you’re deathly allergic to.” Eric said, weakly. He tried shifting the box away, but Gene’s hand reached out and yanked it over evenly between them.

“There is no cookie that I am allergic to, silly Fox.” Gene chuckled, his eyes scooping out the goodies.

“Okay, but I might as well warn you that they’re poisoned.” Eric shrugged, just accepting the fate of half his cookies at this point. He was going to share anyway, but Gene was the kind of guy who wouldn’t leave any left for anyone else.

“Ooohho ho, homemade chocolate chip cookies,” The bassist was practically drooling. “And gingerbread cookies. Man, I should come around here more often if you’re gonna be bringing the sweets. What’s the occasion, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Christmas is coming up, and my niece wanted to send me a care package. She probably did it cause she kept hearing how my mom kept going on about you guys putting me on that strict diet…. Which I thought Paul put you on, _too_ , now that I think about it.”

“….Well, what Paul doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Gene muttered, sitting a bit straighter on his perch. His stuffed two chocolate chip cookies into his mouth and made quick work of them, then asked. “Sooo, wait. It’s December already? Damn time flies when you’re recording a new album…”

“Yup! I’m really excited to fly back to be with my folks and sisters. What are you doing for the holidays?” Eric asked him, his face lighting up at the festive conversation. 

“The same thing I do every year. Spend it with my mom and celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Aww, that’s super sweet.” Eric gushed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gene smiled despite his tone. “Just don’t go spreading the word, I got my reputation to maintain, after all.”

“Sure thing, Demon,” Eric chuckled, lightly. The two of them perked up a little as they heard footsteps outside the door. Eric snatched back the box of goodies and waited for the last two members of their group to enter.

“It smells fantastic in here, who’s been baking?” Bruce walked in flanked by Paul. The two of them made their way over to the couch and sat down. Bruce tapped Eric on the shoulder and motioned to the box. “You gonna share, curly?”

“Well, if Gene doesn’t try to eat all of them first,” Eric grinned at him from over his shoulder. “Then sure, have some chocolate chip cookies!”

“I wouldn’t eat _alllll_ of them…” Gene muttered under his breath.

“Liar,” Bruce chuckled.

“Big time,” Paul nodded in agreement. “Besides, you’re limited to your cookie intake, or did you forget?”

Gene rolled his eyes and muttered something else under his breath. The rest ignored his pouting as Eric passed the box around. “Tis the season for sharing and all that,” He told them. 

After Bruce and Paul got their handfuls, Eric leaned back to Gene and offered him some more. “I’ll make an exception for your diet.”

“You're spoiling him, Eric. He’s like a stray dog, you keep feeding him, he’ll keep coming back for more.”

“Oh, _puh_ -lease, Paul,” Gene sighed, then smiled as he took the box from Eric’s hands and selected a gingerbread cookie from the top of a pile. He bit its head off and there returned that expression of delight across his face.

Words and funny jabs weren’t exchanged for a little bit after that. Instead, they were replaced by groans of pleasure chorusing out from the band members as they tasted Eric’s cookies.

“These are really fantastic.” Paul groaned, happily. 

“Your sisters should be our dessert chefs, I swear.”

“Yeah, thanks for sharing, Foxy.”

“You’re welcome, guys! All in the spirit of the holiday, am I right?”

“Hey, as long as you keep dishing out the goods, then you can be right about whatever your fluffy little head thinks you are. I mean, heck, I’ll even vote for you to get a drumming solo in the next song!”

“Gene!”

“Consider the cookies, Paul!”

“Consider the cook- Hahhahah, oh man!” Bruce threw back his head and chuckled at them.

Eric smiled at the scene. It was a nice way to end a day of rough recording. Yup, just kicking back with pals, getting ready for the holidays and fighting over solos. The good life of a musician.


	2. Traditional Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Using the KISS mansion from KISS: eXposed because convenience. Heh.

Within the walls of the shared KISS mansion, Gene fell back on the couch in the center of the living room and turned the TV on. Immediately, he groaned, finding nothing but Christmas specials on. Every single channel. Nothing but Christmas programs. He flipped through them all, repeatedly saying in a bored monotone, "Seen it, seen it, seen it..." 

Eric, the curious fox that he was, poked his head into the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. “Whatcha watching, Geno?”

"Nothing. I just wanted to relax with a movie, but all I get is just a bunch of Christmas specials I've already seen on TV a thousand times. Man, why aren't there any Hanukkah specials?"

"...Are there not?”

“Nothing good,” he huffed, crossing his arms as he settled on _It’s A Wonderful Life_. “And that’s coming from a movie buff.”

“You’re the _horror_ movie buff, Gene.” Paul said upon entering the room behind Eric. He picked a piece of popcorn from the top of Eric’s bowl before heading over to sit down beside the bassist. “Just settle for _Frosty_ tonight in order to save us the grief of you channel flipping, and we’ll go out for some potato latkes tomorrow morning.”

“Potato latkes?” Eric asked, walking over and planting himself on the other side of Gene.

“Aw, man. Eric, have you never had any potato latkes before?”

A cute, fluffy head shake told them no.

“Paul, I admit, your mother made a mean stack of potato latkes, but they’ll never match up to my mother’s cheese latkes.” Gene said. He grabbed a small handful of popcorn for himself, then told the drummer. “It’s cheese pancakes, and I swear I can’t go a single year without them."

“Oh, I know what you mean,” Paul hummed, leaning back against the cushions of the couch. “My mom makes the best loukoumades.”

“What’re those?” Eric asked, curiously.

“Loukoumades are deep-fried puffs dipped in honey or sometimes in sugar,” The singer explained. He shut his eyes and sighed. “Man, now I really want some…”

“Maybe with some sufganiyot and zelebi. Mmhm, some sauteed onions, sweet and sour sauces, chicken noodle soup, and braised beef brisket…. I can see it now,” Gene shut his own eyes and smiled. “Some simple seasoning and minimal use of herbs and spices that create those foods that’re delicate but never bland. Your mother’s abundant use of potatoes with cooked meat, fried up as pancakes, or baked in kugels. Mhm, my own mother’s creamy cheesecakes, honey cakes, babka and blintzes that I absolutely need right now to satisfy my sweet tooth.” Gene chuckled, earning a small whack on the shoulder.

“Hey, I’m getting hungry here. You’re not helping with that list of yours.”

“Then go sashay your way into the kitchen and start cooking some potato latkes up. Jeeze, you act like you haven’t heard my own stomach growling over here.”

“You made yourself hungry,”

“No, no. You brought food up. Didn’t he, Eric?”

"No, Gene started it. Didn't he, Eric?"

Eric choked on a piece of popcorn. His eyes darted between his two bandmates. “Ah… Oh! Look a distraction!” he said, pointing across the room.

Surprisingly, Paul and Gene glanced over, then glanced back just in time to see Eric making his escape by climbing then falling over the back of the couch.

“ _Ooof!_ ”

“…A little dramatic, don’t you think, Eric?”

“…Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the fox~ Like the fox, like the fox~ On the run~


	3. Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly early little present for Ruriruri~ 
> 
> Enjoy~!

Paul had promised himself that what happened between the two of them had just been a one time thing. It was to never happen again. Hell, he even told himself that that was the last time he would ever go over to Ace's parent's apartment during the Christmas season. He was just so hell bent on avoiding any sort of problems that might arise during the festive time.

So another year rolled around, and Paul had successfully convinced himself that it had been a one time thing. But then his mother made him take some leftover loukoumades from their Hanukkah over to the Frehley's apartment since Mrs. Frehley had been so nice as to make the Eisen family a lovely fruitcake in honor of their boys being such good friends with one another.

Paul's lips were set in a hard pout as he trudged through the New York snow from the bus stop down to the Frehley's apartment. He cursed the weather, he cursed fruitcake and he cursed his lead guitarist.

He didn't want to chance repeating last year's events. He tried so hard to avoid even looking at Ace during practice lately, as to avoid any sort of temptation.

But... As he kept trudging on through the cold, wet snow, the only warm thoughts that filled his head were the ones of his slightly awkward kiss that he had given Ace the morning after. The kind of kiss that started off chaste, but had lingered, long and yearning, just before Paul had mumbled a soft goodbye against Ace’s cool, dry lips.

Paul shook his head, almost throwing his hat off. He had to keep focused! He wasn't going to fall for temptation! He wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't!

Ah, but what he wasn't expecting was his fellow band member sitting outside the steps to his parent's place with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, drinking eggnog (and maybe some vodka mixed in with it, too) and raising a brow at the bundled up Paul walking his way. The corners of his lips stretched back in a lazy, drunk smile. While he kept his eyes on Paul, his hand motioned upward to the exact reason Paul had NOT wanted to come over to his place.

Mistletoe.

Fucking mistletoe.

Paul didn't give a damn for the tradition of it, honestly. But its sheer existence combined with Ace's intoxication was waaaay more than enough for the two of them to start drunkenly kissing each other against the stairway wall outside of the apartment. Their mouths had practically fallen into one another.

They even began cuddling on the stairs, too. They sat down together where they continued to kiss lazily, warming one another with their bodies and the fuzzy blanket wrapped around them both.

In the back of his mind, Paul told himself that this was the last time. This was the absolute last time that he was going to let this happen. 

Yup. No doubt in his mind.

Not a single doubt.

... Until next year... Maybe...

Ace’s awkwardly long limbs entwined with Paul’s as Paul had grazed his lips over the smooth skin of his neck. It was driving him nuts! Ace was driving him totally insane. Hell, even the smell of his cologne that he splashed on was getting him going. Paul buried his face in his hair and inhaled, finding himself completely lost in him.

It was never gonna happen again.

Next year, Paul would definitely not be here on Ace's doorstep, kissing, cuddling or embracing the lead guitarist like each moment they shared was their last.

"Paulie," Ace crooned out between their kisses.

Paul groaned out loud at that tone in his voice. Damn... If he were going to keep to his resolution, then he supposed he should come up with some sort of plan next year to help avoid this itch- this impulse- this maddening desire!

Paul raised his eyes up to him, rather timidly, his lips drawn into a slight pucker and a deep sigh blowing harshly out from his nose. “Tell your ma to stop hanging this thing outside the doorstep..." he murmured, softly.

"Pfft, hAhaHhAh," Ace chuckled, "You think she's been putting it out here for the past two years? Oh, Paulie, you're a real card."

"Y- You mean y- you-" Paul stammered, his eyes widening comically.

"Yeah, yeah," Ace nodded, "My family never did the whole mistletoe thing, but then I read somewhere that if you stand near a piece of mistletoe with someone, it means you’ve got to kiss them.”

Paul couldn't deny that bolt of lightning that shot through his chest, filling his chest with a sudden sensation of fondness and joy. He found himself moving in even closer to him. “You set me up,” he said, and Ace nodded. "You cheeky son of a gun."

Ace shrugged, “I figured if I just hung up some mistletoe, then you wouldn't have any choice but to give into yourself. After all, I can still remember last year... You wouldn’t stop kissing me~”

“Ace, you- you- Oh, you,” Paul whispered, then whisked himself forward, taking Ace into his arms and squeezing onto him tightly as he passionately sealed their lips together. The lead guitarist happily melted into him, making a low, satisfied noise in the back of his throat as he kissed Paul back. 

They sat there, simply basking in one another’s affection and warmth in the freezing New York City weather. With their bodies so close, though, they felt more lip contact between each other than Jack Frost nipping at their noses.

Eventually, Paul did pull away finally, coughing and awkwardly offering up a wrapped dish of loukoumades that he suddenly realized he had crushed between them. “Ah, my mom thought I should bring this over,” he offered. "As thanks for the fruitcake."

"Aww, yes! Some sweets!" Ace cheered, then smiled brightly back at Paul. “But as much as I’d love nothing more than to take them and stuff my face, I think I'd rather stuff my mouth with something a little more special..."

Paul blushed as red as a tomato. Shameless! He would never get over just how damn shameless Ace could be at times! 

"Now c'mon inside, I wanna continue kissing you~ Tonight, and tomorrow, and maybe every day after that if you'll let me.” Ace smiled, softly at him.

Paul bit his lower lip and nodded. He slid his hands into Ace's, then let him lead him inside and into the warmth of the apartment.

So much for this being a one time thing...


	4. Snowballs

"Gene!" Eric called after the bassist, grinning as he held the huge snowball he had made behind his back. He was walking a couple of feet ahead of him, chatting up with Paul and Vinnie, but he turned to see who was calling him. Seeing that it was the band’s little Fox, he smiled as he turned around,

"Hey, Eric, what are you-" Before he could finish his sentence, Eric flung the snowball at him, hitting him full in the face. Paul burst laughing. No hesitation. Like zero hesitation.

"Hahaha! He got you good, Gene!" he laughed, clutching his sides. Beside him, even Vinnie was having a hard time covering up his laughs with his gloved hands.

"... Do you know what you've started? Do you what this means…?” Gene growled, wiping the snow off his face. A playful spark entered his dark eyes, and he declared, “This means war."

"Oh, bring it on!" Eric shouted, grinning. Vinnie's eyes grew wide in terror as he dodged a rogue snowball, and Paul wasted no time in joining in on the fun. The lead singer grabbed a handful of wet snow and lobbed it at Gene, hitting him in the back of the head then took off running, laughing as he ran.

"Oh, you ass! Get back here!" Gene shouted, chasing after him. The group of them split up, and crazy KISS snowball war pandemonium filled Central Park. Snowballs flew left and right. Shouts and laughter filled the air. Everywhere anyone looked, they could see a bunch of full-grown men flinging snow at one another.

Eventually, Paul had pushed some snow together to make a low wall and was pelting anyone who ran by with snow. Eric tried to doge him but failed miserably with that bright orange coat of his on and ended up getting covered in snow. He got him back by pelting him square in the face.

More snowballs whirled on by. 

_“Need to find some cover and quick,”_ Eric thought to himself. Glancing around, he saw a bush that he could maybe hide behind. He ran and ducked behind it. Peeking through the leaves, he laughed at the scene playing out before him.

Gene had managed to sneak up behind Paul and then stuffed snow down his black jacket. He was pelted mercilessly with snowballs as he ran away. Eric chuckled softly from his hiding spot. Ah, but someone was missing, though. 

_“Where's Vinnie?”_ he wondered, looking around. 

Knowing Vinnie, he was sure to be stocking up on snowballs, getting them ready fast in order to get Paul or Gene right in the back, but right now he was nowhere to be found. 

Eric poked his fluffy head out from behind the bush looking for him, when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and saw a flash of a bright yellow coat running up to him.

"Vinnie! There you are!" Eric said, smiling at him. His smile soon faded, however, once he realized that his arms were full of snow, and he had an evil look in his eyes. 

“Uh, no! Nope!” Eric tried to move, but his jacket had gotten caught on the bush, effectively pinning him. It didn’t help that when Vinnie tried to stop a few feet from him, he didn’t notice a patch of ice and skidded right into, knocking the two of them to the cold, wet ground.

" _Ooof!_ " Vinnie huffed, shaking the snow from his face. He wiped the wet slush away, then found himself grinning down at the little Fox below. Eric couldn’t help but blush, realizing that he had him pinned against the ground.

"Vinnie, _oof!_ What’re you doing?" Eric asked, trying to wriggle his way out from underneath him, but he had him pinned down good.

"Well…” Vinnie hummed, leaning down a bit towards his face. “I was going to throw a bunch of snow on you, but I think this is much better.”

"You trying to play sweet now that your little plan backfired?" Eric chuckled, still trying to get out from underneath him. Vinnie paused, pretending to think for a moment.

"Hmm… Perhaps," he grinned. “You look sort of cute lying in the snow. Like a little artic fox~”

“It’s cold,”

“I am not warm enough for you?”

Eric blushed furiously and looked up at him. He was blushing, too, and damn did it make him look even cuter.

"You know the snow is really, really cold." Eric said in a soft voice after practically staring at him for a moment. Suddenly, he saw an electric spark in his dark eyes. An idea of sorts must’ve snuck its way into his head.

"I've got an idea on how to warm you up~" Vinnie purred, leaning his face down and close to his. The next thing the drummer knew, his lips were against smacking against Vinnie’s. Oh! How his heart was beating, and Eric wouldn't have been surprised if the heat from the two of them was melting the snow piles around them. He reached up a gloved hand and pulled Vinnie even closer as he sat his hand down on his shoulder. 

Then somewhere in the depths of his mind, Eric seemed to have noticed that everything around them had grown quiet. Perhaps, too quiet during a snowball war.

“Well, damn,” Gene, his voice gave him away, said. 

“I knew it!” Paul, this time, shouted. 

Startled, Vinnie pulled his face away from Eric’s. The two of them looked up to see Gene and Paul staring down at them. Gene was shaking his head in disbelief, and Paul had set his hands on his hips, smiling a little.

Vinnie turned his head away, and Eric was pretty certain that his own face was blood red by now.

"I told you that they had been acting like this, lately!" Paul told Gene. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Gene grumbled. “I’m surprised I didn’t see it before. I mean, damn even I saw the way Vinnie’s eyes trailed Eric at the last show…”

Eric heard Vinnie groan. He felt for him, he really did. Although, even he had to admit that his flirting was starting to become quite obvious to those around them. He’s surprised they only now got caught.

"…Weren’t we having a snowball war?" Eric leaned back and asked them.

Paul and Gene shared a look at the same time, then reached down to the ground to scoop up some snow. Vinnie’s eyes comically widened, and he scrambled to pull Eric up off the ground. Eric cried out and covered his face as Gene threw a huge snowball right at him. Vinnie cursed when Paul got him right in the back.

"Oh, that’s it!” Eric declared. “Vinnie, you and me up against them! Let’s go!”

“Oh ho, is that so?” Gene smirked, devilishly.

“Damn right! Let’s get ‘em, Eric!” Vinnie shouted, reaching down for some ammo. 

Just like that, everyone scattered once more, and the snowballs began flying again. 

“Do we get to go get some hot chocolate after this?” Vinnie leaned over to ask Eric, giving him a sweet smile. Another two snowballs struck the two of them right in the side each.

" _Oof!_ Only if we survive this first!" Eric chuckled as he pulled Vinnie down before another could pop him right upside the head.

“And marshmallows, too!”

“Duh! Of course!”

"Cookies?"

"Gene would kill us if we didn't have 'em, and you know it!"

Vinnie laughed, "Hahahah, I know, right!"

"Damn right!" Gene shouted at them from across the way. "Now focus on the war!"

"You heard 'em," Eric smiled, brushing his cheek against Vinnie's for a second. "Let's get 'em good!"


	5. Decorating

Paul groaned as he placed the last of their equipment down in their studio. Well, studio was a stretch, but it was definitely where the four bandmates practiced. He huffed, leaned back and set his hands on his hips as he glanced around at the boxes that surrounded him.

As his gaze wandered, though, he happened upon a couple of objects that weren’t in their studio yesterday. Paul raised a brow, then called out, “Ace, Peter, Gene! Guys, what happened in here?”

“Hmm? Yeah, Paulie?” Ace hummed, poking his head into the room.

“What is all of this?” he asked, turning towards him as he waltzed into the room from where he lazily stood in the doorway. From behind him, Peter came following along, and soon even Gene walked in. “Who did all of this… decorating?”

Ace huffed, “I did, of course! Took you long enough to notice it! Peter,” he motioned to his best pal. “here, noticed!”

“Yeah, looks more, ah, festive in here, doesn’t it, Paul?” Peter nodded.

Gene crossed his arms, but he gave a nod to the thoughtful décor now filling up one whole corner of the room. “Nice touch, adding the menorah in.”

“Like I would forget,”

“Okay, okay, wait a second-” Paul said, catching everyone’s attention once more. “You basically make me carry your guitar for you every day, and any other of your crap, too, but you found the time and energy to decorate the studio up three weeks before the holidays really kick off? Ace? What. The. Hell?” he clapped his hands at the end of each word right there at the end for emphasis.

“Well, it’s very simple, Paulie,” Ace chuckled. “It’s KISSmas around here!” 

“KISS- what? Gene? Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”

“Well, I was the one who actually thought the name up for it. You see, once we make it big, we’re going to need to dive into every single aspect of merchandising that we can.” The bassist explained to him, as if he were giving a board room pitch. “So, we got KISSmas for the holiday season.”

“…Gene, your bass is wearing a bunch of tinsel around its neck as if it were a feathery boa. How in the world were you talked into this?” asked Paul in a quasi-yell from where he stood amid the equipment.

“Well, jeeze, Paulie,” Ace huffed, slightly. “If you don’t like how I did up the studio a bit, then you’re really not going to like what comes next.” 

“W- What could possibly be next—" Paul was saying, but he stopped when he saw Peter move back to the doorway and pull in an enormous pine tree. Well, enormous for New York City... It was certainly tall enough to leave only a couple of inches between the top and the ceiling. Peter looked happy, even though he seemed even more comically shorter next to the tree than standing next to any of them, as he hugged it by the side. 

Ace ran over and yanked the door all the way open so that Peter could get it in. Gene moved out of the way and over to Paul, seeming similarly shocked but not as much since he had already seen it before entering the studio. He just hadn’t known what the two misfits were doing with a tree before then.

“Where… Where did you get this?” Paul eventually managed to ask. Ace smirked.

“Some, ah, boyscouts were selling them in a lot a couple of blocks from here. Peter and I got a good deal on it.” he replied casually.

“You are insane,” Paul pointed out. “Both of you.” Both men shrugged.

“C’mon, Paul, it’ll be fun.”

“It’s just to help lighten the mood. We were getting so stuffy and huffy in here. We needed to loosen up, for the sake of the music, man.”

Paul just shook his head, his curls hitting his cheeks each time. “…Gene?”

“Hey, as long as they water it, and I don’t have to, then we’re all good.”

“…Fine. I’m outvoted, then.”

“Oh! Almost forgot!” Ace exclaimed, rushing over to some box near the corner and beginning to rummage through it. Suddenly, he took out four bright red stockings with fluffy white fur on their openings. “Guess who got stockings for everyone?” He beamed back at Paul.

“…Gene,”

“I know, I know,” The bassist sighed, taking some pity on his friend. “I’ll hide the hammer and nails.”


	6. Hot Chocolate

"Hey, hey. Heeeeeey! Gene, I'm thirsty."

"Aren't we all," Gene huffed.

"Geeeeennnneee! I'm really thirsty."

"Okay, okay," He put down his magazine and looked across the room, over to the bar-stool to see Eric sitting there, spinning around and watching him with a smile. Gene lifted an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"I'm thirsty~"

"Then go make yourself something," Gene sighed as if he were instructing a child. "You're a big boy- hell, you're fifty-eight years old. I'm pretty sure you can go make yourself a drink."

Eric pouted, then stood up from his seat, only to move over to where Gene sat and placed his hands in his lap. Another eyebrow was raised in question.

"But Gene… you make soooo much better hot chocolate then me."

Gene blew out a short breath from his nose. So his poor little kitty had a craving for something sweet, huh? Alright. He might as well be the ultimate, gracious being that he was and go make his needy kitten a cup.

Setting his magazine down on the coffee table on a table, then standing up, he walked into the little kitchen area of their hotel room. Eric stood up and smiled behind him. He watched as Gene began to rummage around in the cabinets, pulling out what they needed, as Eric leaned both elbows down on the kitchen table and hummed.

Gene turned his head to glance at him from over his shoulder and couldn't help but chuckle at him. The drummer looked like an innocent child, waiting on his parent to prepare his midday snack for him. Then he turned back to what he had been doing before and continued, mixing the hot chocolate mix and milk together in a mug.

"I'm not doing anything special," Gene told him, "You can do this, too, you know?"

"You add a special touch to it~" Eric purred.

"The 'special touch' is throwing it into the microwave to heat it up."

"But you do it so wonderfully,"

"Lazy damn cat," Gene muttered under his breath.

It didn't take long for Gene to finish, and he moved back to let it sit on the counter. Eric pounced on over, making a move to retrieve it, but Gene grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him away, shaking his head lightly.

"Kitty, it's too hot. Have some patience, and let it cool for a few minutes." All he got was a childish pout in return.

"Fine…" Eric sighed.

Gene couldn't help but chuckle. "Besides, I don't know what Paul would bitch about if you weren't able to sing cause I was responsible for burning your tongue."

"He'd probably bitch about how my neck looked like a bunch of groupies attacked it," Eric said, looking up at him. "But I think we both know who to blame for that..."

"...Alright then, go on ahead, burn your tongue." The bassist nodded towards the steaming hot mug. "See if I care."

"Aww, Gene, you care," Eric laughed, smiling warmly before picking up the hot cup in his hands, breathing in the chocolaty aroma. He took a sip. It was still hot, but it wasn't scorching hot as Gene thought it to be.

Eric smiled up at his older bandmate, the 'thank you' shining in his dark eyes. Gene just gave his shoulder a fond pat, then returned to his reading.

But as he turned to walk back into the living room, he stopped short, blinking as he saw Eric still standing there with a cute look on his face. He would've thought the energetic drummer would've gone back into the living room and sat down on the couch, almost done with his drink by then. But it was still full, as if the sip was the only thing he drank so far.

"Is something wrong with your hot chocolate?"

A little red color rose in Eric's cheeks, and he shook his head. "It's perfect... but, I, ah, need a little sugar to go with it~"

Gene shook his head, fondly, then welcomed the soft crashing of lips against his own. It was a warm, soft kiss they shared. The bassist roughly pressed his lips back against Eric's own soft ones. The taste of hot chocolate poured into Gene's mouth, as Eric felt him return the kiss, softly leaning closer to Gene for both his lips and body.

Gene brought his arms around the drummer's waist, pulling him closer. Eric placed his hands on his shoulders, softly rubbing at them as they kissed. Soon, though, the two of them parted, both catching their breath after such a close moment. Eric was still blushing, and Gene smiled down at the younger man.

"Now that's the special touch~" he crooned, softly.

Eric smiled at him, then chuckled, "You got that right, Geno~"


End file.
